IT WAS THE FIRST TIME CRISTINA HAD SEEN the whole group together since the first day she and Robinson were brought in on the operation. Everyone was there around the conference table and McPeek was at the head with her remote in her hand and a PowerPoint slide already displayed on the big screen. She waited until the room had settled and then she cleared her throat. “Welcome back,” she said. “We’re about to see everything come together.”
Cristina sat elbow to elbow with Robinson. When she glanced at him his attention was on McPeek. Where she was tense, he was relaxed. It was always that way between them.
“D-Day is tomorrow,” McPeek continued. “Yesterday we got confirmation through two sources that José Martinez and his crew are going to receive a shipment of narcotics from Mexico sometime Wednesday evening. You all got the packet I emailed about the target site, but here it is again: a food-shipping warehouse on the east side. José’s people will be on that site, collecting the goods, after they close for work at five o’clock.
“Representatives of the FBI, DEA and local law enforcement will be on hand for the bust. Meanwhile other elements of the operation will stand ready to execute arrest warrants for forty-three suspected Aztecas, including José Martinez. We expect to haul in more dope and more guns when we make the arrests. Special Agent Muir of the ATF can give us some information about that.”
The man spoke up from his spot at the table: “We know that last week José Martinez’s outfit shipped twenty-four brand new AK-47s, purchased from one of our agents, into Juárez. The Mexican police have the serial numbers of the weapons and, upon seizure, will be able to confirm the transaction. They also sent a thousand rounds of 7.62mm ammunition down south. Clearly they don’t plan on letting those guns sit around picking up rust.”
“How do we know those guns haven’t already disappeared?” Cristina asked.
“I received word at a meeting with my opposite number in Juárez that the weapon situation was under control,” McPeek said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means it’s under control,” McPeek said more firmly. “The Mexican authorities now know who receives weapons and where they’re kept after they make the crossing. It’s a real coup, and on this side of the border we get to stack gun charges on top of everything else José’s people are on the hook for.”
“Our agents have sold the Aztecas a pretty sizable arsenal of arms,” Muir said. “Pistols, shotguns, semiautomatic rifles. I want everyone here to know that they could be looking down the barrels of these guns when it comes time to put people in handcuffs. Every entry is considered high-risk.”
Robinson nudged Cristina’s arm and leaned in close. “When isn’t it?” he asked.
“We don’t want a shootout or a standoff on our hands when we go in,” McPeek said, “so our agents and officers on the ground are going to execute these warrants hard and fast. Are there any questions? Then let’s move on.”
There was more, but Cristina had heard all she needed to hear. At her level, they would be responsible for executing warrants, cleaning up the trash. She hadn’t expected any more than that and was not disappointed. The questions she had could not be asked in an open room. McPeek never mentioned Flip by name, but all of them knew that there was someone on the inside and that someone had given up José’s secrets.
The slides came and went. Cristina pretended to take notes. When finally it was over, she lingered to shake hands with a few people she knew. She saw McPeek deflecting invitations for more talk, and once when their eyes met, McPeek nodded to her.
It took fifteen minutes for the room to clear. McPeek took her time stripping the cables from her laptop. The big screen had gone blue. Robinson closed the conference room door.
“Excited?” McPeek asked.
“Of course,” Cristina said.
“All right. This is a good operation for everybody. Everyone will look great.”
Robinson stood beside Cristina, waiting for her to speak first. His arms were crossed in front of his chest.
“We wanted to talk to you about Flip,” Cristina said.
“What about him?”
“Well, we want to know how he’s going to be handled. If everything happens the way you say, he’s going to be swept up with the rest of the Aztecas. Then what?”
“He’s an informant. He’ll be taken care of.”
“We were hoping for something a little more concrete,” Robinson said.
McPeek packed her laptop into a slim case. She stopped and looked at both of them. “Why are you always coming to me worrying about your CI?”
“Flip gave us good information. He’s been loyal from the get-go. I want to know that if he sticks his neck out even further to testify, he’s not going to get it chopped off,” Cristina said. “Didn’t you just listen to your presentation? José Martinez is a criminal in two countries, dealing in drugs, guns and murder. I think we have a right to be concerned about Flip’s welfare.”
“Fine,” McPeek said. “What do you want?”
“If he testifies against the Aztecas, he has to disappear,” Robinson said.
“We can relocate him.”
“What about his family? If the Aztecas can’t get to him, they’ll go after his mother, the people he’s closest to.”
“Arrangements can be made,” McPeek said.
“Are you sure?” Cristina asked.
“I’m sure. Listen, I don’t know what you think about how the FBI does its business, but we’re not in the habit of using informants up and then letting them burn. I promise you we’ll take good care of Flip, whether he turns himself in voluntarily or he gets picked up in the sweep. Is that good enough for you?”
Cristina looked to Robinson and then to McPeek. “It’s good enough for me.”